Chapter Three
Lucy went swimming the first Wednesday in June. She awoke to a bright, cloudless sky. There had been other nice days, but this was the first that the sun had given real warmth. The temperature was approaching that of a summer's day and it was barely nine o'clock, Lucy noted gleefully, deciding to pay her first visit to the cliff beach.
She quickly finished the work for that morning and helped with the preparations for the Society's meeting, before dashing upstairs to pack her towels and sun things and change into her swimsuit and beach-robe.
By twelve o'clock she was striding happily through the lush spring growth along the clifftops. She swung the small picnic hamper that Martha had packed for her. And she felt as bright and clean and fresh as the day itself.
The path down the rocks was fairly simple to negotiate. Once down, Lucy looked back and decided it would not be so simple to return. But that remained in the future.
The sand of the beach was white and clean and hot from the sun's rays. The beach was enclosed on three sides by cliffs and fallen rock. On the fourth side by the sea itself, Lucy spread a towel on the sand and felt as though she was on her own very private beach. The sea was sparkling invitingly as she slipped off her beach-robe and ran gladly into the Waves. She was soon splashing shivering back to the warmth of the shore. The water was icy! Thankfully, she wrapped the sun warmed towels around her shivering shoulders. It would take more than one sunny day to improve the temperature of the sea. But the sun beat down gloriously and Lucy was soon basking contentedly.
It was after her lunch, near to three in the afternoon, when she sensed rather than saw the shadow fall across her prone figure. She jerked into a sitting position, shading her eyes with one hand as she peered at the dark figure outlined against the bright sky.
“Oh, Sorry,” a flustered voice apologized. “I didn't mean to alarm you.”
“What did you expect, creeping up on me like that?” Lucy asked peevishly, resenting his intrusion onto what she considered to be her own property.
“Thought you might have fallen, or something. Hurt yourself, perhaps,” the man said, still apologetically. He moved around out of the glare of the sun and she could now see his face. He was about twenty-five years of age, but his face had a boyish look to it that make him appear younger than his years. His hair was sandy and tousled, his eyes piercingly blue. He was wearing a faded checked shirt and blue jeans and his boots were muddy.
“I doubt if anyone could fall from the cliffs and land so far down the beach,” Lucy pointed out. “And they certainly would not land neatly on a towel, with their possessions grouped tidily around then.”
He grinned friendlily, ignoring her suspicions.
“You're from the Valley House, aren't you? I've seen you around there a few times when I've been moving the cattle from the meadow. We're practically neighbors. My name is Frank Walters,” he volunteered.
Lucy nodded slightly. The name meant nothing to her.
“Nice spot, this,” Frank Walters said, glancing around the beach. “Though I’m not one to do much swimming. Prefer my feet on dry land. Your day off, is it?”
“Yes.”
He had an open, friendly manner and she found it hard to be distant with him. “Well, it's not my day off, more's the pity. Saturday's mine” He looked at her keenly. “I'll leave you to it. then.”
He tramped a few feet towards the cliff face, then turned back to her. “There's a cinema in Bellbury.” he informed her in a loud voice.
“Is there?”
“Yes. I'll be going there this coming Saturday. Do you fancy the trip? They do say the film is a bit of a frightener. But I'll be there to hold your hand.” He grinned at her.
Lucy smiled back, amused. He sensed her hesitation. “Be a break for you,” he said persuasively.
“I've never been to Bellbury,” Lucy said.
“You're not missing much,” he laughed. “I could pick you up at seven, by the house gate. Shall I?”
“Yes. Why not?” Lucy decided.
“'Til Saturday, then.” He waved and strode happily away. Lucy watched him clamber agilely up the fallen rocks. his long legs pushing his lean frame quickly and easily up to the clifftop, where he waved once more and disappeared.
Lucy lay back on the sand again, but she could not settle. The interruption had made her feel restless. Soon she gathered her things together and slowly made her way back to the house.
The meeting of the Society had ended earlier than usual. And unsatisfactorily, Lucy decided, as far as Agatha Westgate was concerned. Agatha hardly spoke two words all through the evening meal. Once or twice Lucy caught a frown flitting across her employer's face. After the meal, Agatha immediately returned to the study.
Lucy waited for thirty minutes before she knocked and entered the study to discuss work for the following day. Agatha was standing by the fireplace. her back to the door as Lucy entered. She was wearing one of her favorite heavy tweed suits, this one a sort of murky green color, and her hands were jammed into her jacket pockets.
“Have you prepared your notes for typing, Miss Westgate?” Lucy asked quietly. Agatha